“Maybe he had, sir,” agreed the cook innocently. “I knew he’d forget all about his dinner so I sent Susan up with a tray for him.”
“What time was that, Cook?” asked Landis.
“Just before dinner, sir. About seven-twenty maybe.”
“Where was he then and what was he doing?”
“Susan would know, sir.”
“Thank you, Cook. That’s all then.”
Mabel Harley started and looked from one to the other.
“You surely don’t think poor Mr. Joel had anything to do with the tragedy! He wouldn’t harm a kitten!”
“Mr. Harrison,” grunted Bernard experimentally, “was no kitten, however.”